


my roman sionis x reader collection

by sithonis



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020), Birds of Prey (TV)
Genre: Bottom Roman Sionis, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Smut, He buys you shit, Implied Sexual Content, Look at him he's actually showing affection are you proud, Other, Smut, Swearing, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:02:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26265433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sithonis/pseuds/sithonis
Summary: all of these were originally posted on my tumblr !! a small and expanding collection of headcanons, blurbs and oneshots revolving around you and the rightful king of gotham.
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. the girlfriend gig | headcanon

**Author's Note:**

> hey !! welcome :) please enjoy my work lol  
> shameless self promo time !! my instagram is @sithonis and my tumblr is @rosionis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this relationship headcanon was the first roman x reader piece i ever wrote !! how FUN !!

\-- you’re spoilt rotten, of course. expensive earrings, new silk dresses, high-end makeup, rings, shoes, custom-made weapons: bat your eyelashes and the next day you’ll have it, no matter the expense. nothing is too good for roman’s baby girl. yet, above all, his favourite gifts with which to shower you are necklaces. delicate diamond pieces, tight pearl chokers, leather studded dog collars. oh, roman adores how each necklace frames your face - the expensive tag around your throat a delicate reminder of just who pays for that little dress, that car, those platform heels. him.

\-- roman shows you off like a prize. as the black mask club sparkles and pulses with the sound of a particularly raucous friday night, roman makes sure to spend his rather taxing business meeting with you sat on his knee. a pretty little trophy that the most obdurate of opposing crime bosses can look at and admire, yes, but certainly not fucking touch. roman says he likes to show you off, show everyone in his club how well-behaved you are for him. however, you like to think you’re some sort of moral support; teasing a hand through his hair and decorating his jaw with kisses when a flame of anger colours his throat at his rival’s stubbornness. go on, coo violent ideas in his ear, describing to him how sorry this fucker is going to be if he crosses roman beauvais sionis. instinctively or not, roman always leans into your touch, even as he bares his teeth or pushes his foot to the floor in fustration. he’ll purr, holding your waist tighter with a gloved hand as he leans forward to confront his associate with another deal.

\-- roman is always touching you. a hand on your waist, your neck, your thigh, your ass - you can’t get enough of the cool leather of his gloves against your bare skin, delightfully coarse in contrast with the soft expanse of his palms. roman just has to show the shit-faced party-goers in his club, the busy streets of gotham, even the custom wallpaper of his bedroom just who you belong to. with the heavy music burning through your veins, both yourself and roman are occasionally found at the epicentre of the throbbing movement of his club. now, these moments should not be taken lightly, for roman rarely allows you to dance with him on a work night, because “daddy’s gotta talk business, yeah, sugar?”. although, don’t get me wrong, roman treasures the opportunity to hold you flush against him between your fellow dancers, sating his twisting desire to take you right then, right there by biting at the hot skin of your neck as he whispers every dirty little thing he wants to do to you in your ear.

\-- one rather rewarding aspect of the girlfriend gig is roman’s insatiable want, no, need, for sex. if he had it his way, he’d fuck his little doll anywhere he damn well pleased. yet you loved to tease him, dangerously so. you can palm him through his fancy blue slacks during a business meeting, and watch the sickest of smirks tug at his lips as he grasps your thigh in warning (“i swear, baby, once i’m done here, you’re going to regret ever teasing daddy like that, ‘kay?”). i must admit, expect any pretty lingerie you’ve donned for roman’s enjoyment to be ripped from your skin by the man’s teeth within a matter of moments - he’ll eat at your body like a man starved, moan your name like it’s gospel, draw the lewdest of noises past your own lips. pull his hair as he drives his hips into yours and he’ll groan, burying his face into the heat of your neck as he works harder. afterwards, your body will ache for days at a time, much to roman’s amusement. but don’t dare to even think about masking the purple runes staining the dip of your collar bone, the columns of your thighs, the curve of your throat; it’s roman’s little work of art, his parting gift before work calls for him to leave the warm throws of your bed once again. leave a hickey for him against his own neck and he’ll growl playfully, snatching at your skin with his teeth as he tells you “how naughty you are, baby, marking daddy like that”. he enjoys it nonetheless. whether he cares to admit it or not, he’s as much yours as you are his. he’s enthralled.


	2. collared | oneshot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> originally written in response to this request on tumblr: "Can I request a Roman oneshot where he buys the reader a collar, and her ,being an innocent cinnamon bun,is like “We’re getting a dog?”"

a huff of exhaustion left roman as the penthouse door closed behind him, guided to slide quietly shut by the palm of his hand. ache had begun to tug at the curve of his muscles, knotting over his shoulders and drawing his brow heavily over his eyes.

to keep things brief, it had been a long fucking day.

roman’s sunglasses quickly met the inside of his breast pocket as he took a hand through his hair, another sigh moving past his lips. softer this time: a sound of content in the wonted embrace of his private penthouse. it made roman sick how domestic he was becoming, but the unnatural turn of his stomach at the mention of home, of you, was soon becoming a welcomed solace during the throws of a particularly wearing day such as today.

the sight of his chandelier greeted him ahead – crowning the breadth of the main living space with a honeyed glow. roman straightened the sleeve of his suit jacket and, under his sigh, his footsteps echoed bluntly through the hall when he walked.

your back was to him as you dusted his statue. a small whisper of a tune whistled from your lips. in your own world you didn’t hear it, but roman’s next breath fluttered in his throat.

desperately, he hoped that it was his exhaustion that made his chest positively burn at the sight. he hoped that it was the sheer difficulty of the day that made his gaze soften so tenderly – the tidy sweep of your feather duster against his own marble image leaving a sickly sweet redness about his face.

the scuff of a designer dress shoe against shiny tiling spun you around with a small breath of surprise, and cold stone swiftly turned into warm skin.

‘oh, i didn’t hear you come in!’ your voice was soft, gentle, fluffy at the edges.

roman hummed slowly, ‘sugar, come give me a kiss.’ he opened up his arms and brought you against his chest once you reached him, your lips a cherry-pink singe against his open mouth. then, leaning back, you touched your hand to roman’s forehead with a light frown.

‘are you feeling well, ro? you look flushed–‘

‘what? i’m fine!’ he snapped quickly, immediately withdrawing to stand beside the dining table as his face only burned again at your touch. roman began to flick off his gloves, flexing his fingers whilst quiet curses fell from his lips. you stood still.

‘i’ve missed you!’ you continued, the sheepish chirp of your voice closer to a question in tone as you watched roman struggle with the impatient pull of his fingers against the leather. he gave you a hesitant look – teeth clenched ever so slightly behind his face – before replying.

‘yes, i know, i know, baby,’ roman straightened again with a twitch of his lip as his glove fell to the table, ‘i had to stay later than i would have liked to finish up some… business.’

the purr of roman’s voice was sharper in that moment than it was most days, you thought. a scowl tugged at his cheek under your troubled gaze, and you held your breath as he rubbed at his face with a tired hand.

then, thankfully, the hum of the penthouse door being dragged open and closed again came from the hallway, moving the heavy air.

‘ah, mr zsasz. there you are.’ roman suddenly turned and gave a pleased smile down the long corridor before victor plodded into your own view, his short blonde hair fuzzy against the black backdrop through the window behind him. a new sense of intrigue pricked suddenly at the weight in your chest: in zsasz’s grasp was a wine red gift box, complete with lace and ribbon.

‘what’s this?’

you stepped closer, quickly forgetting the duster once you sat it on the end of the table. roman ushered victor off before turning on his heels toward you with a noise of enthusiasm, thrusting the box forward between his palms. you could see how his previous frustration had withdrawn to make way for that familiar flash of white teeth, his face opening out into an expression of encouragement as you slowly took the box into your own hands.

cautious was what you were at first: wary of roman’s erratic pinwheel of moods, of his tendency to spin into a fit of rage within a second upon not getting his way. yet, right now, he was happy, sedated by the thrill of presenting you with yet another gift. you felt the cheeky glint in his eye urge you on, a stark contrast to the muted navy pinstripe of his three-piece suit.

‘a little treat for you, kitten, for being so patient for me today,’ roman said, his eager grin audible in the croon of his voice. so you bit your lip with a smile – setting the box down on the table as you took a quick breath.

the tidy bow came undone with ease under the tips of your fingers. the lid parted from the box with a delicate hiss between your hands.

after a nervous sting of hesitation, you peeled back the pretty tissue paper to reveal the gift nestled underneath.

roman watched you with bated breath, one hand on the curve of your waist as he pressed his chest to your shoulder from behind. with wide eyes he examined every little quirk in your expression – feeling something behind his ribs swell with pride once your eyes shone in delight.

‘so? whaddya think?’ roman gave a toothy smile beside your face, his eyebrows raised expectantly. from between the folds of tissue paper you had drawn a fancy black collar, its metal studs white and glossy under the low light of the chandelier. impressed on the leather beside the silver clasp was the mark R.B.S. – identical to that of roman’s own gloves.

you gasped softly in surprise, paused, then turned to meet his keen stare over your shoulder, ‘are we getting a dog?’

roman’s lips parted.

‘what did you just say, sugar?’ his voice barely came above a murmur.

‘we’re getting a dog?’ you said again, quieter, your eyebrows knitting together ever so slightly, ‘aren’t we?’

roman could have choked on the heavy flush of red that suddenly coloured his skin, a wolfish grin slowly splitting his face once he locked onto your timid gaze with his own.

‘roman?’

it was that feeling. that same fucking feeling. that tightness in his chest, that sugary pink burn staining the apples of his cheeks. roman couldn’t mask the low growl that thrummed from deep within his throat at that innocent look in your eyes – both his hands now pinched your waist as he tugged you back against his hips. he just couldn’t stop himself. dragging his open mouth against the warm curve of your neck, he almost groaned aloud in response to your startled mews.

‘no,’ roman breathed heavily, his greedy hands wandering southward, ‘no, that collar’s not for a dog, baby.’


	3. a mumble of affection | blurb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i fucking hate this blurb lol it's so ugly hhgaghavdg !! anyway it was written in response to this prompt i was sent on tumblr: "Is roman a softie around his partner? Like would he be mean and throw tantrums but cuddle and shower her with kisses and apologize?"

roman soon finds you alone in the bedroom and, despite your refusal to acknowledge his presence, the small trembles of your back betray your sorry state. roman fucked up, and he knows it.

after a business meeting turned sour, roman had shouted at you for getting in the way - called you a nuisance - and you had taken that as him wanting absolutely nothing to do with you. roman was an impulsive hot-head and, whether he liked to admit it or not, his tendency to lash out when things didn’t go to plan often got in the way. it made you cry. he made you cry.

‘baby?’ his voice is nothing but a low murmur, a quiet disturbance in the heavy air, as he steps forward from the doorway - his leather gloves discarded somewhere on the table behind him. roman purses his lips as he looks at you - your back facing him as you sit, cradling your knees in bed - and he runs an uncertain hand through his hair. he stands there for another moment. he clenches and unclenches his teeth. and then he speaks again, ‘baby, please, you know i didn’t mean it.’

you shake your head, and the new tremor that suddenly shakes your shoulders causes roman to lurch forward to sit beside you on the bed, his hand grasping your own. his suit creases at the knees as he draws his legs up onto the mattress so he can face you with a rare softness about his features.

‘baby, look at me- look at me,’ he says, his head bowed as he tries to catch your gaze with his, ‘you know i love you, yeah? you know i do, baby. i shouldn’t… i shouldn’t have shouted. i know it was wrong.’ roman sets his lips in a thin line as he watches you, stroking his thumb against the back of your hand.

‘roman,’ you whisper, lifting your head ever so slightly, squeezing his palm with your own, ‘please… please don’t do it again.’ your voice is soft, quiet, and as your eyes raise to meet his, roman realises that you mean much more to him than he had wanted to let on.

‘i know, i know, i won’t-‘ roman croons, cutting off his own mumble of affection with a kiss to your bare shoulder, ‘i promise it won’t happen again. come here, baby.’ he pulls himself backward on the mattress, sitting his back against the bed rest, and opens out his arms with a warm expression of defeat. you manage a smile, dragging yourself from your nest of blankets before settling into his side with a small sigh.

roman’s hand immediately finds your hair and, as he toes off his shoes, he knows that he won’t be moving anywhere any time soon.


	4. to get to know you better | blurb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one's fucking ugly too lol :)) it was written in response to a kiss prompt (from a list) of "in a bar + longing"

you were special, something told roman. you had to be. no one had ever managed to captivate him quite like you had, he realised - no one had ever even come close. with each little bat of your eyelashes you strung him along and, much to his dismay, roman found himself hanging off your every word, nodding and humming in agreement as he sat beside you at his bar. he was desperate to make you smile, to entertain you with his many anecdotes, to hear that sweet chime of your laugh over the thumping music behind him-

‘…mr sionis?’

‘hm, what was that, sugar?’ roman quickly snapped his gaze back onto yours, immediately fixing you with one of his wide, flashy grins.

‘i asked if you were still listening or not, mr sionis, for you seemed quite preoccupied with your own thoughts,’ you responded in a coy tone as you brought your glass back to your lips - you watched him pull at his suit jacket as he cleared his throat, giving you an uncertain look.

‘oh, no, do go on, i was just thinking,’ roman hummed, quirking his eyebrows into an expression of interest.

‘oh? about what?’ you leaned towards him in response, a small smile playing on your mouth as his sunglasses flashed against a white strobe light, ‘seeing as it was clearly much more exciting than what i was talking about.’

roman huffed a small laugh, ‘i was thinking about how i want to get to know you better, baby.’ his words were drawn off into a low purr as he brought one gloved palm to rest just above your knee, dazed slightly by the look of teasing intrigue across your face.

‘and how are you going to go about doing that, mr sionis?’ you said slowly, playing with his name on your tongue, before roman suddenly pushed himself forward to close his mouth over yours. you immediately moved against him, deftly tracing his hand on your thigh with your fingertip as he dragged his tongue across your lip. and then you pulled away, returning to your drink with a small sound of amusement. roman hung there, watching you silently as you eyed him over the rim of your glass.

‘baby, come on, don’t tease-‘ he managed - a small, injured chuckle breaking past his words as he tilted his head.

your mouth curved into a smile, ‘but what if i want you to work for it?’


	5. for the future king, a kiss | blurb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what a surprise i actually like this one a bit :) it was written to another kiss prompt from the same list, but this time it's "by the river + hurt feelings"

‘i still can’t fucking believe it. him? betraying me? what a fucking-‘ roman pushed the ball of his foot into the ground beneath him, his face twisting into a grimace as he fought to find a suitable insult. you looked out at the fog hanging heavily over the grey water, hearing roman huff in frustration and finally fall into a taut silence beside you. his anger radiated from him, buzzing against you as you both stood at the end of the dock smothered by the early-evening gloom.

‘he was my friend as much as he was yours, baby.’ you glanced up at him, watching his lip quirk in irritation before he gave a humourless bark of laughter in response.

‘ha, right.’

‘no, seriously. i thought he was a good guy, romy. i would have told you if i had a bad feeling about him, you know that.’ you raked your lower lip between your teeth with a sigh, ‘but i never suspected anything.’

the gritty hiss of duffle against concrete dragged out from the foot of the dock behind you, and a frown immediately tugged at the corner of your mouth.

‘no, no-‘ roman breathed sharply, still looking forward across the water as he gripped your forearm tightly, ‘no, i know, baby. i know i can trust you.‘ roman clenched his jaw, his stiff fingers moving down your arm until he could grasp your palm with his own. you squeezed his hand and stayed still for a long, lingering moment.

‘roman?’ you eventually said through the silence, which had settled upon you again like the fog. this time he turned to face you - his lips were pursed into a tight line, yet his brow softened ever so slightly when his eyes sought yours.

‘yeah, sugar?’

a small smile flashed across your face before you buried it for a look of firm sincerity, catching the lapel of his suit jacket gently between your fingers. the feel of his shirt was soft against your skin, you thought, as you brushed your palm over his chest with a quiet sigh. you then settled your hand over his heart.

‘you’re so much better than him,’ you whispered, concentrating your gaze on the movement of your fingers, ‘you’re gunna be the king of all of gotham some day, baby. just you wait.’

then, in a gesture so uncharacteristically careful that you hardly felt it, roman raised his thumb and forefinger to your chin. he brought your face up to meet his own and, after a fleeting, unreadable pause, he pressed his mouth firmly to yours. with a small noise of content, your hands immediately settled on either side of his jaw - his own grasped your waist and tugged you closer as the dark water rippled beneath your feet. roman then drew his lips away, holding you in front of him as he stared into your face. a proud grin began to creep onto his features.

‘yeah. yeah, you’re right.’


	6. showered in flattery | blurb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nevermind i don't like this blurb either lmao ... apart from the first few paragraphs i'm rather proud of those :-) this was written for another kiss prompt: "what about roman + kissing in the shower, maybe after a long sex session?"

knotting your fingers in roman’s hair, you dropped your head back against the pillows with a sigh of laughter – closing your eyes against the sharp aftershock which spasmed through your legs like a stab of lightning. roman gave a low sound of content in return, which rumbled lazily from his chest like a purr as his body hung over your own.

‘what? what’s so funny?’ roman questioned with a gritty chuckle into your neck as you drew your palms over the breadth of his shoulders, tracing the smattering of freckles across his warm skin. you shook your head and smiled as his ardent gaze met yours once he brought himself up onto his elbows to face you. roman’s lips were parted slightly, his breaths heavy. a sheen of sweat brightened the dip of his collarbone and dampened the locks of his hair.

‘nothing,’ you said softly as you played with his hair between your fingers until it hung like a fringe in front of his eyes. roman hummed, nodding along in mock deliberation before you hit him on the shoulder with another giggle, ‘stop it!’

‘i didn’t say anything!’ he yapped happily in response as he finally moved away from you, standing from the bed with a loud, drawn-out sigh, ‘come on, you’re coming to have a shower with me now.’ rolling your eyes endearingly, you pulled yourself up from the mattress and swung your feet onto the floor to join him.

‘shit–‘ you breathed out a laugh once you tried to stand, as a familiar ache suddenly burrowed into the apex of your thighs and buckled your knees, ‘romy, baby– you’re going to have to carry me.’

roman scoffed, pushing his hair from his eyes and hoisting you into his arms with a groan. ‘so i’m really that good of a fuck, then, yeah?’ he tried with a teasing smile, drawing out the word fuck with enough lingering emphasis to make you flush under his gaze.

‘oh, don’t flatter yourself,’ you said as you attempted to shun the stupid grin that immediately curved up to meet your eyes. hiding your face, your legs hung over roman’s arms at the knees as he padded into the bathroom.

the water was hot against the skin of your back when roman walked you into the shower. he braced your waist between his palms so you wouldn’t fall and, in that moment, you couldn’t help the small sigh of relief that parted from your lips. the sound was almost drowned by the hiss of the rushing water, and you leaned your head back against roman’s chest with a giddy smile.

‘are you going to fall asleep on me?’ roman murmured against your hair, and the hum of the amused chuckle that followed trailed pleasantly down your neck. turning around in his arms, you shook your head, mouthing the curve of his throat as you felt his hands move to your hips. roman bowed his head to face you and pushed his lips to yours once you looked up, pulling you against him under the water as it ran through his hair and down the bridge of his nose.

‘you’re handsome,’ you breathed once you parted, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth. roman just huffed a laugh in response, eying you with an odd thoughtfulness about his gaze.


	7. new heels, and new friends to boot | oneshot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an actual oneshot !! wow !! what a gift !! this was written on special request for a friend of mine over on tumblr <3 peep the fact that in this work i finally started using actual speech marks for dialogue and not inverted commas lmao .. we love that character development

“come on…” you sighed impatiently, “where is everyone?”

dragging your thumb down your phone screen to refresh your texts once, twice, three times, you came up with nothing.

beyond the white light of your phone, past the penthouse window’s neat panes of glass, the setting sun had cast a sour shade of tangerine across the greys and blacks of the city skyline. but with your inbox remaining worryingly silent – the empty hours passing you by unperturbed – the dormant backstreet outside had now been sunk into darkness by the fast-approaching night. long shadows hung against the bare brick walls of gotham city as eleven o’clock sidled ever closer, your hopes of a birthday outing with your friends quickly dwindling.

back when the evening hadn’t yet ventured past nine o'clock, however, enthusiasm had buzzed between your fingertips and led your new heels in an excited waltz across the hardwood floor. roman’s charming goodbye smack-on-the-ass still stained your face a silly shade of pink as you sat, patiently, in wait for the sound of a car pulling up outside; you chewed your lip in anticipation for the promised countless drinks and raunchy dancing on the rose-tinted horizon.

but as eager minutes dragged out into long, heavy hours, no yellow headlights turned to shine past the penthouse windows in front of you. no endearingly obnoxious texts from your friends vibrated your phone against your thigh and, when the rising music began to rumble from the depths of the club below, your birthday giddiness ultimately dissipated.

and then the bruising realisation settled somewhere behind your ribs.

they weren’t coming.

“mr zsasz, i have a brilliant new job for you,” a familiar voice suddenly announced from across the apartment, the elated tone doing little to draw you from your thoughts, “go fetch mr keo and his lovely wife and daughter before sunrise so we can tie up a few loose ends, ‘kay? yes, that mr keo… go on then, go!”

as you sat neatly on the edge of the sofa, tapping the toes of your shoes together in a nervous sort of rhythm, you heard the steady thump of roman’s designer loafers stomping down the hall towards you. “golden lions my ass,” he grumbled to himself with an all-too-dramatic sneer, a puff of air rolling from his nose like some type of angry dragon, “he can choke on all that fucking family bullshit. fucking moron…”

you watched from your seat as roman rounded the corner and sighed deeply – malice now forgotten and his face practically glowing beneath his rose sunglasses once he saw you. "hey, doll,” he called across the room, his arms opened wide and a flashy grin adorning his features, “ya miss me?”

only a weak smile lit your face briefly in reply, yet roman was so worked up by his thrilling golden lions fiasco that he hardly even seemed to notice. after flicking off his gloves, and with an unusually excited spring about his step, roman immediately pranced over to (surprise, surprise) his personal bar. under your gaze, he spun the cap from the neck of his favourite bottle of whiskey and proceeded to graciously inform you of every single fucking detail of what had been happening downstairs (and of how, of course, he’s “so sorry" that he had to be working on your birthday but “business is all about sacrifice, babe”).

“i mean, i made him quite the deal, baby, pulled out all the stops. so it’s his fucking loss in the end, anyway, right? right.” roman awarded himself with an affirmative nod, taking his ornate tumbler in his grasp and moving towards your perch on the sofa. you hummed absently in response to his incessant yapping before he then sunk into the sofa next to you, pulling you closer to his side as he drew one leg up to rest over the other. you tugged at the hem of your dress.

after all these hours, roman still smelled of his expensive cologne, you thought. the kind whose commercials bedazzled you with fast cars racing along midnight highways, with fancy shoes and even fancier women – all tied together by a sickeningly erotic backing track in one neat, pretentious package. but to you, the images inspired by the smell that lingered in the creases of his suit were ones of comfort, of familiarity. you gently leaned your head against roman’s shoulder as he stared into the bronze swirl of whiskey inside his glass beside you.

“why you all dressed up, doll, you going somewhere?” he then asked, the seemingly innocuous question hanging in the air as you felt his arm snake behind you along the back of the sofa.

you couldn’t have stifled the sad little sniffle that followed even if you had tried, and roman immediately quirked his head back in your direction.

“oh, baby, what’s wrong?” he cooed with a pout (a pout that, if you hadn’t bothered to memorise all of roman’s funny little mannerisms so well, you would have taken to be painfully condescending). setting his glass aside, he pulled you onto his lap with the same poise and decency as a rather impatient bear. you shook your head, averting your eyes and ignoring the persistent look of question plastered across roman’s face right in front of yours. he scoffed.

“don’t play dumb with me, sweetheart. what’s the matter?” he hummed, grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger to lift your gaze to meet his own.

and roman’s gaze was surprisingly sincere. so sincere, in fact, that as he watched you fidget before him on his lap, the soft lines beside his eyes deepened with a genuine level of concern. you sighed, and you couldn’t help but bring your hands upwards to cradle his face between your palms, tracing those lines with the pad of your thumb before doing the same to the curve of his lower lip. roman sat beneath you, his big paws coming up to clasp either side of your waist as he waited for you to piece your answer together, as gently and as carefully as anything you take the time to do. and roman had learned to be patient.

“i was meant to meet some friends tonight,” you started slowly, stroking your fingers across his cheek when his brow subsequently furrowed over his eyes, “they didn’t show, roman. i was meant to have been picked up two hours ago. i kept on telling myself that maybe they were just late but i haven’t heard anything at all from them and i-“

“oh, baby. baby, shh-“ roman immediately shook his head, and he pulled you forward by the backs of your thighs until you were sitting flush against his chest, your face pressed into his neck, “they’re not worth your fucking time if they leave you like that on your birthday, sweetheart.”

the lapel of roman’s suit jacket suddenly seemed all too interesting for you to ignore, and you played with the navy blue fabric between your fingertips until the heavy sob building in your throat kindly subsided.

yet he had a point, you thought. despite, yes, leaving you for a few hours in the evening, roman had still sacrificed his usual hankering to be the centre of attention for the trouble of your pesky little birthday. he had still slept in late with you in the morning, the sun barely managing to flit lazily through the half-closed blinds before the warmth of his wandering mouth graced you with your first (knife-sharp, impossibly overwhelming and seemingly relentless) gift of the day. then the second. and the third. you were surprised that he didn’t get lock jaw, to be honest.

but it was the little things, really; when he’d hold your hand in his and kiss his way up your throat, or when his handsome face would open out into a genuine, honest grin as you worked your way through your countless presents. roman had made you feel at home. much unlike your ‘friends’. it was rather humorous, really: the friends that, for years, had warned you about “guys like roman sionis, who will drop you in a heartbeat” – with a poisonous charm and a wallet that could swallow you whole – had finally shed their skin and left you.

"don’t talk to them again,” roman said firmly. he certainly didn’t have to tell you twice – you nodded, moving off his lap to bury yourself into his side. roman pursed his lips in thought and, in the small silence that followed, you could almost hear the cogs turning as he tried to find something he deemed suitable to say.

“don’t be sad, baby. don’t waste your time,” he murmured eventually, tugging your bare legs up and across his lap, “‘besides, there’s nothing to be sad about. i mean, look at these fucking heels i bought you!” he proudly announced. you giggled quietly when he rubbed his palm along your calf, toying with the buckle of your shoe with a smug hum.

“i suppose so,’ you shrugged with a small smile.

“you suppose so? babe, come on!” roman barked a laugh, “i bought you these shoes, all that fucking jewellery, and don’t forget i promised you that trip to paris when-“

“roman…”

“yes, alright! alright,” he squeezed your leg in a silent apology before sitting his chin atop your head with a contented sigh. you relaxed against his side and the penthouse fell into a comfortable silence once again.

“forget about those bitches, baby,” roman then concluded, his voice barely above a whisper, “because i’m sure there’s something we can do together to celebrate. just the two of us.”

you felt him smirk against your hair and you raised your head to look into his face, to which he replied with a sportive lift of his eyebrow. you found your hand drifting southward from his chest.

“and what did you have in mind, mr sionis?”


	8. one of two ways | smut (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> woah !! actual smut !! shock horror !! part 1 of this little fic doesn't have any penetrative sex or anything but it is still rather saucy lmao .... god bless bottom roman sionis

from day one, roman hadn’t failed to establish himself as the “protector” in your relationship; he was the money, the “alpha”, the pampered house cat to your little bird. roman was the one who called the shots and, as he liked to phrase it, made “all the big decisions round here, alright, baby?“. and, having felt the claws of roman’s wrath many times before, you had never really dared to question his authority, let alone defy it.

so, as you can see, it came as rather a surprise when roman had been willing for you to ‘take charge’ for an evening: a surprise that you were definitely not going to take for granted because, for one night only, you would be able to give roman beauvais sionis a taste of what he had been missing.

and he had just seemed so soppy at first, so pliable, quietly moping on the sofa until he was practically throwing himself around on the cushions in maddened anguish. all those teary glances, frustrated mumbles, those tightly-balled fists, just so you would toss him even the slightest look of concern or the smallest scrap of attention — like some sort of big lovesick puppy looking for a bone. it was the kind of weepy bullshit that he would pull when a business meeting had gone in any way but his own, or when the barman had forgotten the little maraschino cherry on top of his drink (“it’s the centrepiece of the fucking cherry bourbon! what kind of uncultured moron do you have to be to not understand that?”). whatever it was, you simply just didn’t have it in you to ignore him when he just looked so fragile, so cute, red-in-the-face and glaring at you from his perch on the lounge sofa.

it was oddly charming, really; the way roman had pawed at your waist to tug you closer when you finally sat beside him was nothing unusual, laying you out on the sofa beneath himself to have unassailable dominion over the parts of you which he loved the most. you thought he had looked much too handsome for his own good, staring down at you with a satisfied, lop-sided grin as he shadowed your body with his own, stroking his thumb across your throat. patiently, you had waited for the slow, sweet kisses addressing your neck and jaw to descend into that undeniably hungry drag of his teeth over your skin that you had come to expect — so, of course, you couldn’t manage to quell the blush settling on your cheeks when roman’s advances had stayed just the same: slow, sweet, and so uncharacteristically tender. 

and, as he trailed his tongue lazily down the slope of your neck, you then realised that roman sionis, for once in his blasted life, was holding back. he wanted something, and it sure as hell was unnerving when he somehow lacked the courage to say it to you aloud. as each sugary singe of his lips burned a new hole into your skin, roman was looking for a signal. a green light. a sign that you wanted it too.

roman was waiting for you to take the collar from around his throat, and you just about had an idea.

with his suit jacket long gone, shoes and socks then in the process of joining the crumpled navy heap on the floor with a soft thump, you brought your legs up to hook comfortably around his hips. whilst roman’s mouth began to wander back up towards your ear, your left hand followed that same notion; from its position of resting on his waist, you danced your palm slowly up his chest in encouragement, receiving a deep, lingering purr of approval from the man above you. 

“keep doing that… keep doing that for me, baby…” roman’s voice was so low that you could have sworn you felt the vibration hum between your thighs, and you knotted your right hand in the hair at the back of his head to gently scratch your nails across his scalp in the way you knew he liked.

and every part of you was telling you to give in. every part of you was urging you into action to do as you were told, to keep going, to act out roman’s order like the good little girl you were. just as you always did. 

but there… there was that same nagging feeling, that same inescapable pull in your gut whenever roman would push his bottom lip into that stupid pout of his, when he’d rant and rave like a child and clench his teeth so hard he couldn’t speak.

it was that feeling of superiority: an inkling so small that it was hardly there at all, but so persistent that whenever roman’s restless temper raised its hackles, you couldn’t help but be blindsided by a kind of lust that you’d never really felt before.

an urge to dominate, to tame.

but before this realisation had any time to catch up with the nerve endings sizzling in your fingers, a newly-invigorated roman seized your lower lip between his teeth, his hands racing to the front of your shirt as he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

“damn- fucking- buttons-“ roman fussed, his hair falling into your face when he then stopped to angle his head downwards, impatiently ripping open the front of your shirt with a grunt. you couldn’t help but giggle, and he sent you a cheeky grin before mouthing hungrily at the skin between your tits, the flash of his perfect teeth making you squeeze your thighs tighter around his hips.

“babe, i’m gunna…” roman groaned through kisses, his breaths becoming all the more ragged between each graze of his hot mouth across your skin, “i’m gunna- i’m gunna fuck you so hard you’ll be able to feel me between your legs for the next week… you’re going to be such a good girl for me…” he was growing more manic by the minute, grinding himself down onto your thigh as he snatched at the hem of your bra with his teeth.

“oh, really?” you breathed, and the teasing melody of your words made roman snap his head up immediately in return, the muscles in his forearms flexing when he gripped your waist. suddenly, he was hanging stock still above you, caging your body with his own, poised to attack.

“what are you trying to say, doll?” roman warned, his voice deathly quiet. the striking blackness of his eyes bored into your own and, just inches from his face, you could hear the murmur of a growl building somewhere in the back of his throat.

you knew that you should be scared; he wanted you to be. as you lay sprawled beneath him on the sofa, rosy-faced and numb to anything but his touch, roman wanted you to submit. you were prey for him to toy with between his paws, his to do with as he pleased, and never before had you dared to deny this hierarchy of which roman was king.

“hmm?” he leaned forward, his lips so agonisingly close to yours that you could hardly find the words to speak. and his eyes: heavy with malice and fixated on how your gaze flitted about the sternness of his face.

you were playing with fire, you knew that — you were dancing so dangerously close to the firing line that you could smell the smoke in the room. and there was something hidden there. something else, glinting like a rhinestone within the flood of thundercloud-blue around roman’s pupils. it was hope: a muted glimmer of destructive anticipation buried far beneath the anger written plainly across his face. 

“i’m saying,” you started, a bold smile slowly splitting your mouth, “that maybe you shouldn’t be so fucking full of yourself, sweetheart.”

the infuriated snarl that erupted from roman’s chest was enough to have you seeing stars, and the immediate thundering of your heart in your mouth was like the crack of the starting pistol.

there was simply no turning back now.

“you fucking b-“ roman lunged, his arms whipping forward so to press you back into the sofa, but the sudden, filthy moan that broke from his mouth took even himself by surprise; you twisted your fingers further into his hair and pulled again, earning yourself another lewd noise from his majesty. in that same moment, you curled your legs even tighter around his hips and swung your body around, pulling roman beneath you as he froze under your touch, stunned by the unbearable jolt of pleasure that made his blood run searing hot.

“what- what do you think you’re doing?” he groaned through gritted teeth — his one last miserable attempt at self-denial. with a wicked grin, you wound your hand into his hair and tugged harder, jerking his head to the side to expose the length of his throat. roman’s mouth fell open with a whine, his eyebrows arching into an expression of disbelief when you dragged your tongue against his neck.

“tonight, you’re playing by my rules,” you whispered into his ear, and roman managed to reply with a sound that could be described as nothing but achingly flustered.

to think you had expected to dedicate hours to slowly breaking him down, pushing further into his mind than you ever had before in order to even begin to nudge him towards total submission. but there you were, already straddling his lap and pressing yourself onto the painfully obvious bulge at the front of his slacks. roman let out yet another breathy moan and you swallowed the lump in your throat, “fuck… i knew you wanted me on top, roman, but not this fucking badly-“

he nodded vigorously in reply, chewing on his lower lip when you rocked your hips against his at a cruelly languid pace, turning another fistful of his hair in your grasp. you watched in awe as his expression was torn between both frustration and sheer delirium, and you found your own excitement beginning to stir deep within your core.

and then, all too reluctantly, you got up from his lap, and the look of pure heartbreak slapped across roman’s face almost made you change your mind.

“get up,” you said shortly. roman glared, incredulous, balling his fists before hesitantly moving his feet onto the floor, “and wipe that look off your face. you’ll get what you want when you’ve earned it.”

barefoot in just his shirt and trousers, roman watched you with a curious stare. even as he stood noticeably taller than you he seemed almost weak in the knees, head bowed and his usually neat hair ruffled atop his head. the sight didn’t fail to leave you breathless.

shedding the last of your ruined top, you stalked towards roman slowly, pressing your tits flush against his chest and moving to hold his jaw between your hands. his breath caught ever so quietly in his throat, eyes flicking downwards to your cleavage before he leaned in to chase your lips with his own.

“ah ah ah… not yet,” you crooned, refusing his needy little advances with a smirk and pressing your finger to his mouth. you watched as roman’s brow furrowed in anguish, and you decided to kiss your way across his jaw instead, pulling at his ear with your teeth as he let out a low keen in response. roman bit back a loud groan, and he couldn’t help but press his hands to your ass and tug you closer in a desperate attempt to satisfy his impatience, for your teasing ministrations had done nothing but wind him up further.

“please…” he murmured, one hand drifting up to your waist as the other stayed firmly clasped to your behind, “please, baby…” 

you paused, a breath of a cheeky grin on your lips, and dragged yourself away from the soft skin of his face to meet his eyes, “…please what, roman?”

with a small smile, you realised that, in such close proximity, it was nothing but a sheer delight to watch him struggle for an apt response; roman pulled his lips together tightly, a muscle in his cheek jerking under the effort as he caught the look of teasing nonchalance across your face. you batted your eyelashes modestly.

“you…” he started, grinding the word out through his teeth, and the sudden malice in his tone of voice made your heartbeat stutter behind your ribs. 

acutely aware of how his arms still kept you trapped against the wall of his chest, you stood perfectly still — a deer caught in headlights — your breaths shallow against roman’s collarbone as his face began to twist into that familiar storm of red-hot fury. you glanced up into his hard eyes, and for a fleeting moment you thought you’d come to the end of the line: a bitter cloud of indecision boiled within him, and hopelessly you braced yourself for the inevitable repercussions of your little experiment which you had brought upon yourself.

…but the fatal blow never landed.

and before your very eyes, the storm passed, and roman beauvais sionis sunk to his knees. his voice was soft and unrecognisable beneath the staggering relief of his surrender:

“you… i want you to do anything you want with me.”


End file.
